


Three Nights of Trally

by Ball_Jointed_Dragon, SpaceKase



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Adoption, Christmas, Every ship needs a Christmas fic, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Sal is a chef, Travis is a construction worker, mentions of tramatic experiences, no one died except Larry, retail abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 19:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ball_Jointed_Dragon/pseuds/Ball_Jointed_Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceKase/pseuds/SpaceKase
Summary: The few nights before Christmas are normal. However, Sal has a gift for Travis that is wrapped in a simple envelope, and it leads them to the most wonderful experience they can have.





	Three Nights of Trally

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> So like. SpaceKase and I have collaberated to make Trally fanfics, and there are more coming out! We're working on a huge one as we speak. As in, it's so big we're still in the 'write out basic plot points' despite it being three days.  
> In this, if you see a /, that means the writers have switched. I'm sure you can tell when, because Space writes so incredibly well, and I'm very not. Haha.  
> Anyway, enjoy your Trally fanfic!!
> 
> Yes, hello; this is SpaceKase talking, and I've got some things of my own to say. 1) I had an absolute blast working on this with BJD. 2) Saying that I write much better is a load of CODSWALLOP. Ball Jointed Dragon is a wonderful writer, all right? And 3) BJD has a blog on Tumblr called Grown Up Sally Face, which I'd highly recommend checking out if you want to see more of this lovely AU; it was all their idea.

Like so many things from the past, it came to him in a dream. 

 

Sal was four years old again and being bounced on his father’s lap, giggling. So carefree; so unaware of everything that was to come. 

 

The walls of the house gave way to pale yellow light; there was his mother, in red and green, handing him a present. He didn’t remember the words, but he  _ did _ remember how she sounded; light and airy and warm. Warm...he felt  _ warm. _

 

The warmth was what Sal noticed when he woke up. The heater had broken down, so he and Travis had made do with an old electric blanket. He glanced to the right of him. He was the only one in their king-sized bed.

 

That was right; Travis had to go into work today. Three days before Christmas.

 

He shut his eyes again, preparing himself for the cold outside./

 

Sally took a second to process everything around him, becoming aware of each thing one by one. 

 

The blanket that was starting to become too warm for him to handle. His t-shirt, stolen from Travis, which was a bit scratchy in the shoulder. His pillow was too flat and he felt far too cold without Travis’ arm wrapped around him.

 

He took a breath, flipping his legs out from under the blanket first. Immediately, it felt as if he’d been doused with cold water. Goosebumps rose and he made a dash for the shower, just barely taking his toothbrush and his towel with him. 

 

He sighed in relief when the shower gave him warm water, immediately stripping and hopping into the shower, grabbing the shampoo that he and Travis Had just barely made a compromise on. 

 

While Sal had wanted the cherry blossom shampoo, Travis had suggested that they go for an ocean-scented shampoo instead. This, of course, led to furious whispers as they held the two bottles up to compare.

 

It took fifteen minutes and multiple smells of the shampoo, but they had finally decided to go with a pink colored shampoo that smelled like lilies. 

 

Sal massaged the shampoo into his scalp, relaxing as the smell filled the bathroom. 

 

Of course, being relaxed made his mind wander; what was it that was making him so calm? He should be worried, preparing for the next attack that he or Travis should suffer, that being either bills they couldn’t pay or food they couldn’t afford.

 

Of course, those situations haven’t occurred in years; three to be exact. He realized with startling clarity that today was the fifth anniversary that Sal and Travis had been together. 

 

Christmas back then had seemed a perfect time for them to get together, a gift promising a lifetime of love and adoration for the other. 

 

This brought his mind back to the dream; his mind, of course began to pick the dream apart. No; it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory, one long forgotten. **_/_ **

 

One from happier times.

 

He frowned as he worked on lathering shampoo through his long hair.  _ No...not  _ happier _ times _ , he corrected himself.  _ Just. _ ..different.

 

It didn’t make him feel much better. He still missed his mom. He missed Larry and Lisa and his dad. 

 

_ I love you, Bud. _ That was the last thing he’d said to him.

 

Dr. Enon had once told him that it wasn’t healthy to repress his emotions. He must have meant it; his state-mandated therapist was one of the few people who he’d felt comfortable enough to remove his prosthetic around, so he’d actually been able to see the expressions he was making. 

 

_ It’s okay to mourn what you’ve lost. _

 

Did this _ really  _ count, though? Did it really--

 

He shook his head as he finished, took a deep breath, and shut the water off. The cold was a decent distraction. **_/_ **

 

He grabbed the towel he’d been gifted by Travis. He remembered that Christmas. Travis and him were so broke that they celebrated even having heat then. 

 

They’d just moved away from Addison Apartments, away from all the people that looked at him funny when he walked by. 

 

Travis has still been healing. His scars were prominent, and he flinched when anyone had a knife or any sharp objects around him.

 

Yet that day, as Sal sat on their couch, Travis had burst in, followed closely by Ash, Maple, Soda, everyone that still considered him a friend. That alone would have been gift enough, but Travis had pulled him from his spot (despite his protests), pressing a kiss to his jaw before wrapping his shoulders with the towel.

 

It was hideous, yellow, and an eyesore. And Sal  _ loved it.  _

 

When he’d first been handed the towel, he had expected the usual rough towel, the ones that still hung up in their closets in case their good towels were in the wash.

 

Yet instead of the rough, itchy feeling he’d been expecting, he instead had been wrapped with what felt like a cloud. It was plump, soft, and Sal would willingly carry it around for months. 

 

The fabric itself was thick, and dried Sal quickly./

 

Of course, the fact that it was doing an adequate job shielding him from the winter air was helping. 

 

He got dressed quickly; thick jeans which were still torn at the knees (he’d long ago decided to stop wondering how the Hell he kept doing that), a long-sleeved t-shirt, and one of Travis’s old purple sweaters. It was oversized on him, of course, and it still smelled like him. 

Maybe it made Sal feel a bit warmer than before. Just a bit.

 

He had work that day, too; a shift at a restaurant nearby. His time was limited, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from gazing around.

 

On his way to their tiny kitchenette, his eyes drifted to their coffee table. There was no room for a proper Christmas tree in their apartment, so they’d settled for a tiny fake one to put there. 

 

There was no reason to be anxious, but Sal’s heartbeat picked up anyway as his eye landed on the small pile of presents they’d been putting underneath. 

 

“Will he like my present?” he asked out loud. “This  _ is  _ where we were going, right? Is it too fast?” 

 

Sal got no answer, of course;  _ this _ building wasn’t haunted, after all. 

 

In any case, it didn’t matter. He’d gone through all that time and effort to put those papers in an envelope. It was done and there now.

 

All he could do was wait.  _ / _

 

Sal was nearly late to work; in fact, he busted in through the back door just as the clock hit 9:00 am, and clocking mere seconds before 9:01 am.

 

That was something Sal  _ hated  _ about this restaurant. It gave the appearance of a laid back mom-n-pop restaurant, only to turn around and demand its employees work hard and on time, or be fired. 

 

But the pay was good, and Sal really couldn’t afford to drop it right now. 

 

He tied his hair up, wrapped his embroidered apron around his waist, and set to work.

 

The day was long; soup this, soup that. Chicken soup, broth, onion soup (which nearly made Sal retch), Chicken Noodle soup, Broccoli soup, their famous ‘Christmas’ soup, which was in reality just the broccoli soup with Christmas-y spices added into the mix.

 

Sal felt that if he heard soup one more time, he was going to double deck the next person who did so. 

 

His co workers rushed around him, causing him to have to dodge just to avoid being trampled or shoved into the corner of the table. 

 

He didn’t feel like being hit in the head with a plate that was too heavy for him to lift, covered in hot soups and meals, nor did he feel like being stabbed into by the stupid trolly his bosses had implemented in an effort to save time and money, which, surprise surprise, ended up drastically failing.

 

He also didn’t wanna explain to Travis how he had bruises on his hips that weren’t left there by him. After all, jealousy was something Travis may have been working on, but he was still extremely distrustful of certain things like random bruises on his husbands arms and sides.

 

It was an hour before his 13 hour shift ended that he was nearly murdered. 

 

“This soup has a hair in it!”

 

Sal turned slowly, the window allowing him to see whomever had dared claim a hair was in their soup in the ridiculous, shrieking voice that made Sal want to cover his ears. 

 

A tall, screechy woman who appeared as if she was starved stood at the counter, holding the hair in a baggie as if it was evidence. The issue?

 

The hair was short, and  _ brown.  _ /

 

Sal took a deep breath and counted to three. Perhaps, at another time, he would’ve smiled and nodded, apologized, and done whatever he could to placate her. Give her another serving free, offer her coupons, assure her she didn’t have to pay for the meal...he was familiar with _ all  _ of those.

 

But he’d been working for twelve fucking hours  _ straight  _ and it was nearing Christmas. Wasn’t this supposed to be a time of goodwill and charity?

 

Why did customers think that this didn’t apply to them? Why would they try this shit  _ now? _

 

So rather than simper up to her, Sal used his best ‘Patiently explaining things to a two-year-old’ tone of voice and said “Ma’am, I apologize. But none of the chefs in our kitchen have hair that looks like this one.” 

 

He’d  _ really _ wanted to cuss her out and publicly shame her for trying to get free food at fucking Christmas time, when there were actual  _ real life _ people out there who needed it much more than this well kempt woman. But of course, he didn’t want to be fired. 

 

Her eyes widened; one of her lower eyelids twitched. “Ex _ cuse  _ me?” she demanded. 

 

Sal was perfectly aware of how dangerous his situation was, but Hell with it; he was going to stand his ground. “That hair you’re holding is a pretty good match for your own.” Indeed, the woman’s perfectly coiffed hair was short and brunette. 

 

The woman’s face turned bright red; it reminded him of the marinara sauce this restaurant assured was home made, but which he personally knew was bought elsewhere. “How  _ dare _ you!” she screeched. 

 

Despite how sure he’d been, Sal flinched a little at the sound of her voice. She reminded him a bit of Mrs. Gibson, but far more intimidating. “If you’d like, I’ll remake the dish for you.” It was all he could think of to say. 

 

Sal clenched his hands into fists, hearing his own voice wobble. His co workers stopped and stared, more than one giving him a sympathetic stare.

 

“You’re vile! You’re an idiot, a moron! You think  **_I_ ** would want  _ another  _ of your disgusting soup?!” Her voice shrill louder, making Sal want to cover his ears.

 

Involuntarily, his eyes filled with tears, his posture worsened, and he grabbed at the ends of his ponytail; tugging on it. The pain did little to snap him back- his mind had already retraced its steps.

 

It had been the Christmas after Mom died, Sal was desperate for his father to smile again, to treat him like he was a kid and not a horrible monster. So he’d spent the entire day making his father the best present he could make, putting his very heart and soul into it.

 

When his father had gotten home…. it had all come crashing down. He yelled at Sal for wasting the food, wasting the decorations and the paper. Everything Sal had painstakingly done that day was torn to shreds before him, breaking his heart into pieces. 

 

It took what seemed like forever for Sal’s father to stop, his breathing shaky.

 

“I-I’m Sorry. You.. you spent all your time-“

 

Sal hadn’t listened. He covered his ears and rushed to his room, locking the door and hiding under the bed. He refused to come out until well after Christmas Day had begun, crying his eyes out every time he remembered.

 

Sal took a deep breath, hands shaking as he stared at the woman before him.

 

Finally, the manager stepped in.

 

“Ma’am, this is the chef that made your soup. Clearly, his hair isn’t the one that’s in your soup. Blue doesn’t turn to brown after it falls from the head. Please leave my restaurant immediately, before I call the police.”

 

The woman screamed some more, claiming injustice and racism.

 

Sal wanted to shake his head, staring down at his hands. His hands, so much like moms. Maybe that’s why dad had been so mad? 

 

“Sal. Take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner.” The old woman, the owner’s wife, patted his shoulder. “I assumed she’d have left on her own, but I was wrong.”

 

Sal nodded, quickly going and clocking out. His breathing kept getting shakier; he tossed on his coat, his boots, his scarf. He rushed out and headed down the street, tears now falling freely down his face./

 

Travis inhaled deeply as he pulled the pie tin out of the oven. This was one of the rare times when he got home before Sal did, so he’d figured it might be nice to surprise him. He wasn’t the cook that Sal was, but he  _ did _ consider himself to be one Hell of a baker. It all balanced out. 

 

Really, that described a lot of their relationship. He was tall; Sal was short. He was slim and hard; Sal was soft and round. He tended to run hot, emotionally; Sal tended to run cold. Hell; he could only see out of his right eye, while Sal could only see out of his left.

 

Their mental health issues even seemed to balance out; when one had an anxiety attack or experienced a flashback, the other would stay calm enough to try to bring them back down. 

 

The pie would have to cool for at least two hours, unfortunately, but waiting tended to make it that much sweeter. The ice cream in the freezer and whipped cream in the fridge would definitely help. 

 

Once he was done admiring his handiwork, Travis turned around to take in the sight of their living room. He’d turned the lights of their little Christmas tree on; it was a nice contrast to the dark green of the plastic bristles, as well as the dark wood of their coffee table. There weren’t many presents; just tiny things he and Sal had gotten for each other for the past few weeks. He wasn’t sure what Sal had gotten for him, but he knew what was in the small packages  _ he’d _ bought. A jar of kimchi, because he knew Sal liked experimenting in the kitchen, as well as spicy food. Hair scrunchies and ribbons because he liked experimenting with hair styles. A fountain pen he’d found on sale, because he liked to write. All things he’d bought because he knew his husband so well.

 

If Travis ever went back in time and told his past self that he would one day wind up here, he never would’ve believed him. 

 

He’d been in  _ so _ much pain then...He hadn’t known what to do with it, so he’d lashed out at people, for no reason other than that they had the courage to be themselves, when he’d felt  _ so strongly  _ that he couldn’t do the same.

 

Travis was broken from that train of thought when he heard the door unlock. His husband was home! 

 

“Hey, you!” he exclaimed as Sal came through the door. He held back laughter; Sal’s impossibly long hair had fresh snowflakes in it. It made a pretty sight. “Welcome home!”

 

The joy he’d just been feeling completely vanished, though, when he heard a small, muffled sob. 

 

“Sal?” he asked, stepping forward and placing a hand between his husband’s shoulder blades.

**_/_ **

Sal reached back, reaching for his leather straps as his shoulders were wracked with sobs. Travis quickly helped, getting the prosthetic off and setting it aside. Now he could see the tears falling down a scarred face, the blue eye shining with shame, fear, and sadness.

 

“T-Tra-Avis.” Sal whimpered, letting out a hiccup. “I was trying- and I was c-cooking-“ another hiccup interrupted him. “But a lady- she yelled and a-sabotaged her f-fo-od.”

 

Travis clenched his teeth. He fucking hated those customers; they always brought Sal near to tears.

 

“Oh, Sal-“ He was cut off.

 

“I-I re-remembered…” Sals words froze him. “Dad… w-was mad at me. I’m sorry, I w-wanted to m-mak-ke him ha-appy.” 

 

Sal began to sob harder, Travis wrapping his arms around him. Sal accepted the hug, burying himself into Travis’s shirt. The taller man rocked Sal, humming softly. Of all the times to remember something horrible, it had to be near  _ Christmas.  _

 

That customer must have been downright cruel if the memories were to be so vivid. /

 

Travis pressed his cheek to Sal’s scarred one firmly so that his lips were right in his ear. He hummed the most soothing hymn he could remember from his childhood and lessened his hold on Sal’s waist with one arm so that he could reach up to run his fingers through Sal’s ponytail. 

 

He almost felt guilty;  _ his _ day had been pretty good. Tiring, but good; one of the buildings his team had been working on was coming along nicely. No one had been shitty to him. 

 

He’d had no horrible memories from past Christmases triggered for him. Which was saying something; there were a _ lot.  _

 

Sal seemed to be calming down a little; the sobs had given way to soft sniffling. Travis rubbed the small of his back and nuzzled him. He managed to smile when Sal returned the gesture. 

 

It took a few minutes, but eventually Sal pulled away. Not far enough to break contact, but enough to rub at his eyes. “Sorry,” he whimpered. 

 

Travis shook his head. “Don’t be,” he murmured. “Shit, I’d probably be crying, too.” Well, maybe not; his dad had, naturally, been the ‘Don’t you  _ dare _ cry, or I’ll  _ give _ you something to cry about’ sort. In retrospect, it was kind of an amazing stroke of luck that Sal had walked in on him on one of the few times he’d cried that year.

 

Maybe it’d been a divine sign. Maybe they were always meant to be in each other’s lives. God worked in mysterious ways, after all. 

 

Sal gave him a watery smile before he leaned up and pressed a kiss where Travis’s jaw met his neck. 

 

Travis couldn’t help himself; a shudder ran through his body.

 

He stared at Sal’s face, at the piece of jaw bone that was missing on the right side, the missing nose, the rough scar tissue on his right cheek. He’d put in a glass eye that was entirely a solid pink. Without thinking, Travis reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind Sal’s right ear. His electric blue hair was long, but his bangs were short enough to always escape whenever he put it up. 

 

_ “God, _ you’re beautiful,” Travis whispered. He leaned forward and kissed him. /

 

Sals lips pressed together, curving into a smile as best they could. Travis believed it to be the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

 

“Travis.” Sals voice was quiet, hiccups still interrupting him every few moments. 

 

“Hm?” Travis put his hands on Sals hips, just barely being able to smell the peppermint and parsley that Sal was coated in.

 

“I need you to hurt me.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around his neck “I need it really,  _ really _ badly. I don’t feel…  _ here.” _

 

Travis knew exactly how he felt. Every time they fell into the traps that were the flashbacks, they felt stuck, like one foot had ended up caught in webs.

 

They’d found out that Sal could be brought back when he’d suffered an attack while Gizmo sat on his lap. The old cat had clawed Sal harshly, but Sal had ended up returning to the present.

 

From there, it wasn’t hard to find experiments: hair pulling, light choking, deep bites, grabbing hard enough to bruise. It all brought Sal back, and it ended up turning him on. This lead to…  _ interesting _ days in the bedroom.

 

“I need it.” Sal murmured, tugging the hair tie out of Travis’s ponytail, letting his hair fall in a canopy around them. “I need to  _ feel _ you.”

 

Travis slowly took Sals hand, tracing it by the veins and grasping his wrist. Sal waited, patient as ever as he stared up at him with that one hazy blue eye.

 

_ “Come back to me.” _ Travis whispered, his grip growing tight. 

/

He started pulling in the direction of their bedroom. Sal obeyed.

 

-

 

Sal cuddled up to him, burying his face in his shoulder and draping one of his legs over his. 

 

Travis gathered him up in his arms and held tight, burying his own face in his disheveled hair. “You okay?” he asked.

 

Sal nodded. He usually got pretty quiet after they did this, particularly after a bad day. Travis understood; he’d just come back after experiencing a flashback. 

 

Travis squeezed him, rubbing his hands up and down his back. “Feel any better?” 

 

Sal nodded again.  _ “Thank you,” _ he whispered. 

 

Travis smiled, and kissed his husband’s temple. “I love you, Sally.” 

 

_ “Mmmm,”  _ was Sal’s response./ 

 

“Well don’t _ I _ feel loved.” Travis kissed Sal’s shoulder, letting his hands move down to his hips to rub circles into them.

 

A favorite part of  _ Sal’s  _ aftermath was the loving massages that Travis gave, having learned this during their first years together. It always started with the back, Travis rubbing up and down. Then his hips, his thighs, and sometimes his stomach; the last part was rare, however. 

 

Sal realized that he’d gotten lost in his thoughts, turning his head back to face Travis, who patiently waited for a reply.

 

“Mhmm, talk to me again in a few.” Sal stretched, using one of his free hands to run along Travis’s jaw. “Everythin’ s fuzzy righ’ no’. I can’t focus.”

 

“M’kay. You want coffee?” The blonde-haired boy kissed the top of Sals head, feeling him shake his head.

 

“Don’t like coffee.” At least not at the moment. Something bitter would probably shock Sal too badly, and he’d become hyper aware of everything. 

 

“How about some tea then?”  Sal opened his eyes at that, looking up. 

 

“Mm, no.” He’d never truly acquired his taste for tea, despite his attempts before. He still drank it, but only when he was fully awake and in the present. 

 

“Coco?” Travis moved his hands down to Sal's thighs, allowing his husband to prop himself up and blearily stare at Travis’s hands. 

 

Now Sal smiled. “Coco please.”

 

Travis kissed him once more as he settled him down onto the bed, wrapping him in blankets and gathering all their pillows to prop him up. Travis looked at him for a few more minutes, relaxing on Sals chest as Sal ran his hands through Travis’s hair, rubbing his scalp. 

 

“I spoil you too much.” He mumbled, voice low. 

 

“You don’t spoil me  _ enough,  _ you mean.” Sal pressed a soft kiss to his lips after the correction, running a thumb over an eyebrow, which rose up in response. 

 

“Yeah, Okay Prince Sally. Your wishes are my command.”

 

Travis smiled as he heard Sal laugh, heading to the kitchen. The cool, late night air was unwelcome, a silent reminder that they needed to replace their heating as quickly as they could.

 

Turning to the cupboards, he began to dig through their cupboards. He chuckled at all the joke mugs he and Sal collected during their time in this city. Without fail, every Christmas so far has brought forth two more mugs, varying in ugliness and cheesiness. 

 

He chuckled, digging through the other cupboards and finding the coco and the kettle. He turned the stove on, filled the kettle, and put the kettle on to boil. 

/

While the water boiled, Travis busied himself with getting a mug and the appropriate ingredients. Cocoa powder; bitter on its own, until mixed with the sugar that Travis added next. It was nearing Christmas; only two days left to go, so as an afterthought, he added pinches of cinnamon and nutmeg. The two most Christmas-y spices he knew of.

 

With that, he added a splash of milk. Whole milk; Travis had found that it made the cocoa extra creamy and pleasant. He then microwaved the mug--a gag gift he’d found at a secondhand shop that read ‘World’s Best Ghostnabber’--for about a minute, stirring it thoroughly until the mixture was combined. 

 

He passed the remaining time by staring out the window. It was winter, so it had gotten dark early; they lived in the city, so he could see no stars. The only lights Travis could see were the one he’d had on in the kitchen and the fairy lights he and Sal had decorated their tiny tree with. 

 

Quiet and peaceful. Just like the candlelight vigils he’d attended so many Christmas nights when he was a child. 

 

A part of reaching this point in his life had been seriously re-evaluating how he felt about his faith. There were some things he’d kept from what he’d learned as a child, of course; respect authority figures, treat others the way you want to be treated, thank God for your blessings...all of those things, he made sure to do. 

 

But of course, there were things Travis now thought differently. Of course his stance on homosexuality had changed; when  _ that _ had happened, everything had gotten better for him. Travis found himself happier than he’d been in years. ‘Honor thy father’ was a good sentiment, but he was pretty sure God meant it for fathers who actually  _ deserved _ it. Really, even his thoughts on  _ God _ had changed; why would anyone worship a being who was so vengeful and violent? If it was out of fear, then it was a  _ sad  _ way to live. He knew _ that _ from personal experience; he’d lived that way for _ far _ too long. 

 

Right then the kettle began to whistle. Travis quickly pulled it off of the stove top burner and turned off the flame. Slowly, he poured the boiling hot water into the mug. It was soothing, how the liquid slowly rose to the top. 

 

He mixed the cocoa with a spoon, watching as the brown liquid swirled. The sweet smell filled the kitchenette, mingling with the scent of cinnamon-baked apples from the pie he’d been working on earlier. It was still cooling, but at least Sal would have  _ this  _ confection to satisfy him for now. 

 

That line of thought led to one more thing. Travis opened the fridge and pulled out the can of whipped cream, spraying a swirl on top of the cocoa. An extra treat for his beloved. 

 

Sal was sitting up when he returned. The comforter pooled around his lap; the only thing Travis could see was his old purple sweater. The thing was far too big on his tiny husband; the collar had drifted to the side, revealing his black t-shirt, and the sleeves just about covered his small hands. At some point during all of this, he’d taken his hair out of its ponytail; the long blue hair now cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. 

 

_ Too goddamn precious,  _ thought Travis as he sat down next to him. “Here you are, Your Majesty,” he said with a smile. 

 

Sal blew the steam away from him before tentatively taking a sip. He gave Travis a smile; not one of the fragile ones he’d been giving him earlier, but a genuine one. “It’s delicious,” he said. “Thank you.” 

 

Travis wrapped an arm around Sal’s shoulder and rubbed his upper arm. “Any time.” They joked, but really...he would do  _ anything _ for his tiny husband./

-

Sal had been tempted multiple times during his drink to just outright tell his husband what he’d gotten him for Christmas. Between every sip, between every lick of the whipped cream (and Travis stealing whipped cream from Sal through kisses after claiming his didn’t taste right), his throat tensed, as if he were going to spill the secret of Travis’s gift.

 

Their little bundle that they’d finally been approved for, arriving on Christmas. 

 

It was difficult for him, especially considering all the effort he had to put in to make sure Travis didn’t get wind of it; More than once, Sal had snatched the mail from Travis’s hands in the calmest way he could, checking to see if the Services had sent it all yet.

 

It made Sal start remembering something Larry had told him days before he’d died. 

 

‘You’re bad at keeping secrets.’

 

While that may have been true then, Sal had to disagree now, as this gift had been in the workings for months, and Travis still had yet to pick up on it, on Sals weird behavior and on how Sal didn’t have the money he usually had left over anymore. 

 

Then again, it could just be the simple fact that Travis was dense. It may seem rude, but Travis honestly couldn’t tell a lot of things as they were happening. Sal could have easily staged a murder right in front of Travis, and the poor man would think that Sal had spilled strawberry jam, immediately suggesting that they make tarts.

 

Sal gave a soft hum, mind now wandering to the many birthdays, holidays, and days where Sal had hidden a secret, expecting Travis to demand the truth- only for him to remain quiet; remaining unaware.

 

He yawned, nuzzling up to his husband tiredly. A thirteen hour shift and then sex may  _ not _ have been the best idea, but it was a necessity in the heat of the moment, something Sal needed if he was going to return to the living world anytime soon. 

 

Something he needed if he was going to return to Travis.

 

“So…” Travis finally spoke up. “Would you be okay telling me why you came home crying today?”

 

Sal played with the rim of his glass, the coco already halfway gone, all the whipped cream and spices mixed together into what looked like an ugly concoction. He was considering if he should tell him without the tears or if he’d start crying anyway.

 

“You don’t have to, I’m just. Concerned. It’s difficult to get you that way, so for someone to-” Travis began to ramble, thinking he’d angered Sal and that he was being given the silent treatment. 

 

Another thing they’d established when Travis had been able to escape from his abusive father- no one should yell, scream, or hit anyone. If there was a disagreement, their tones had to be calm, and if their voices rose, they were to leave immediately, just to get away from the negative feelings. 

 

They both knew that Travis’s triggers were hard to understand, but relatively simple once they’d taken a closer look. Sal, shockingly, had some of the same triggers, only it took more to set him off.

 

So they’d agreed, curled up on the couch and staring at the floor, that they’d avoid hitting or yelling, to make sure that they didn’t set each other off on purpose or accidentally. They were both happier that way.

 

“It’s fine, Travis.” he rested his head on Travis’s shoulder, feeling the older man relax. “Just considering if I might start crying again.” 

 

“Crying Is okay.” Travis nudged him with his shoulder, causing his husband to chuckle.  

 

A small nod to who taught him that. 

 

“True.” Sal scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, thoughts getting lost as he stared into his coco. “I was working. It’d been 13 hours, and all everybody wanted was soup.” Sal groaned at this, setting his cup down to cover his face with his now-warm hands. “I was going to double deck the next person who ordered soup.”

 

Travis gently edged into the story. “We’ll be having steak then. To spite the soup.”

 

Sal giggled, turning back to his story. “I was dead on my feet and ready to come home. But this lady came to the counter, screaming at the top of her lungs that  _ someone  _ had gotten a hair into her soup.” 

 

Travis rubbed Sal’s hip. “Taking  a shot into the dark here; it was hers?”

 

Sal nodded. “Her hair was short and brown; mine’s fucking blue. I don’t know why she thought she could get away with that.”

 

“A fucking bitch, trying to get free food. Especially near Christmas,” Travis kissed Sal’s head. “You’d have to be blind to not notice that someone’s hair is fucking blue. But… that set you off? That would be a new trigger we’d add to our list, if it is.” 

 

Now came the hard part. Sal swallowed, his throat seeming too tight already. “She started yelling at me when I told her no one in the kitchen had that hair. And I started getting memories of the Christmas after Mom….. after I came home from the hospital. I’d made Dad something I thought he’d like, but he.. He..”

 

Tears slipped from Sal’s eyes. His hands shaking, he let Travis grasp his free hand and press a kiss to it, then moving up his arm, remaining on his shoulder. Sal took a deep breath before he continued. 

 

“He yelled at me, saying we couldn’t afford to do that. That we had to.. We had to save up money and I was blowing it away on something so wasteful.”

 

Sal’s heartbreak could be heard, his sadness palpable. Travis pressed more kisses to his neck and face, calming him. 

 

“D-dad later said sorry; he went out that night and got me Gizmo…” Sal nearly burst into outright crying;  the poor cat had died in the first few years of Sal and Travis living together. He was old, and had died peacefully, but Sal was nonetheless bawling when he’d found him. 

 

Travis rubbed Sal’s arm, humming a hymn softly. “I’m sorry, Sal.”

 

Sal leaned into him, sipping the last of his coco. “It’s o-okay… it’s done, and gone…”

 

Travis nodded, laying his head on top of Sal’s. He turned on their TV, a movie already in the player. He pressed play and they sat back, watching the movie with tired eyes. It was Sal that slipped into unconsciousness first - He’d gotten up to take his medicine and to bring Travis his, only letting out a small squeal when Travis smacked his ass as he passed by, getting batted back in return. 

 

When Sal returned, he settled onto the couch, smacking Travis’ chest and handing him his medicine. Travis took his, and Sal took his. The moment Sal’s head rested on Travis’ arm, he was out, exhausted from everything that happened that day. Well, technically yesterday, but time was an illusion, now wasn’t it?

 

Travis watched half of the movie before he, too, fell into sleep. If one were to look into the scene, they’d easily see the two boys laying on the bed, one having his arm slung over the other, both curled up under a blanket with a tiny christmas tree in the background, the light from the tv illuminating the scene. / 

-

Travis woke up to soft darkness. He smiled when he realized that his alarm hadn’t rung yet, which meant he still had some time to himself and the man nestled in his side. 

 

He kissed Sal’s temple before carefully extricating himself from him and the blankets. Sal made a soft noise in his sleep and Travis saw his fingertips twitch, but aside from that his sleep didn’t seem to be disturbed. That was a good thing; goodness knew Sal needed all the sleep he could get after last night.

 

The pie had long since cooled and the kettle was still on the stove. That would work out perfectly; neither of them were big coffee or tea drinkers, but they’d both made an exception for a powdered green tea mix they’d found at the convenience store. He turned the stove on and waited.

 

He blinked in surprise as the stillness of the cold early morning was interrupted by a familiar tone. Sal’s cell phone was ringing. 

 

Travis glanced at the digital clock on their microwave. 5:24, it read. 

 

“Huh. That’s strange, _ ”  _ he murmured. Who would be calling them at  _ this _ hour? 

 

He looked over at Sal, intending to tell him what was going on, but his husband was still fast asleep. Travis gave him a soft, fond smile, and decided that whoever it was, this was something that the two of them could share. They were a married couple, after all; ‘sharing everything’ had been right there in the vows.

 

Sal’s phone was still in his back pocket in the jeans he’d worn last night. Strange, Travis thought, that he was going through his husband’s pants when he wasn’t even  _ wearing _ them. He laughed at the thought as he raised the ringing phone up.

 

His laughter stopped abruptly as his blood froze. He recognized the number of who was calling them. His grandmother on his father’s side of the family.

 

Travis dropped the thing as if it had just scalded him and slowly backed away, suddenly finding it much harder to breathe. 

 

They’d blacklisted all the numbers they had; they’d done  _ everything  _ they could think of to disappear without outright going off the grid.

 

How the  _ Hell  _ had Travis’s family found this number?

-

Sal jumped a full foot from the couch at the sudden noise. Blinking rapidly, he looked everywhere around him before he identified the culprit. 

 

The tea kettle. Travis must have been making tea for the two of them. 

 

He sighed, placing a hand over his chest, as if  _ that _ would slow his rapidly beating heart. He got up to pull the complaining kettle off the flame before the neighbors would get a chance to complain. 

 

Having calmed down a bit, he realized that, though he’d fallen asleep on the couch with his husband, he’d woken up alone. “Travis?” he called. 

 

Puzzled, Sal headed to the bedroom. There were limited places where Travis could be; their apartment wasn’t very big.

 

It was there that he found the other man pressed firmly against the wall, desperate for air. /

 

“Travis?” Sal attempted to talk to his husband, to draw him out of the trance that he seemed to be in. “Travis, baby!”

 

Travis didn’t seem to hear him. His eyes were glossed over, and he kept muttering Hail Marys under his breath, whispering their own vows closely after it. 

 

Sal gently took Travis’s head in his hands, noting his Travis tensed in fear, staring at Sal with eyes that weren’t really looking at him. 

 

“Travis. Babe. Hey, it’s me! It’s okay!” Sal rubbed his thumb over the stubble on his husbands face, seeing the man he loved so much flinch at his own touch.

 

They could only ride this out. Sal had no idea what Travis was seeing at the moment, which meant he had no idea how to fix it. 

 

For now, he became content to wrap his arms as best he could around Travis, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead. 

 

The two slid down the wall, Travis still gasping for air as Sal rocked him gently, singing one of the few hymns that he had bothered to memorize.  

 

“Silent night…. holy night… all is calm… all is bright… round yon virgin mother and child… holy infant so tender and mild…. sleep in heavenly peace….. sleep in heavenly peace..”

 

Travis stopped his mumbling, listening quietly to Sal and the hymn. Very soon, the two were whispering their vows to one another again, promising to share and to hold each other near and dear to their hearts. 

 

Finally, Travis blinked his eyes, his good eye clearing from the fog. 

 

“Sal…” his voice was choked 

 

“I’m here. I’m right here. Always have been.” Sal wrapped his arms around Travis, feeling the tension leave when Travis noticed the blue hair.

 

Sal knew they were safe when Travis moved one hand up to his hair, rubbing his scalp, while the other hand moved to cradle Sals waist. 

 

“It’s okay. I’m right here. I never left.” Sal whispered again, letting Travis look him over.

 

“I’m sorry…” Travis took a deep breath, then another “I was… cooking tea… your phone went off, a-and you were asleep, so I went to answer it, but… but…”

 

Sal nuzzled him “it’s okay.”

 

Travis held back a choked sob. “But the number was my grandmas. The one from my dads side…”

 

Sal felt his ice run cold, his lungs not being able to pull in enough air.

 

“No…. nononono! We vanished off their map! We aren’t even on their radar! They made it clear they don’t want us near them!”

 

Travis held Sal righter, staring at the phone that started it all.

 

“They’re back…”/

**-**

Sal took several deep breaths, just barely managing to calm himself down. This was bad news, to be sure, but Travis was distressed enough. He had to stay cool for  _ his  _ sake. “All right, this  _ looks _ bad,” he said in a level tone, “but we can block that number. We don’t  _ know _ how they got this number, but for all we know, they don’t know anything  _ else  _ about us.” At least, that was what he could hope. 

 

Travis’s breath hitched. “I can’t…” he started. He wrapped his arms tight around Sal, probably hoping to ground himself. “W-what if…?”

 

Sal kissed his head. “Everything’s going to be alright.” He wasn’t sure if he actually believed that, but he was pretty sure it was what Travis needed to hear right now. Hell, he was pretty sure  _ he _ needed to hear it, too. They’d made it  _ this _ far; they were still healing, but alive, well, and in love. 

 

_ Surely _ it couldn’t all be taken away from them with only one phone call. Could it? 

 

He continued to hold Travis and press slow, gentle kisses into his soft pale hair. “I’ve got you,” he was whispering, “I’ve got you.” 

 

It was only when Travis seemed to have calmed down that Sal pulled away a bit. It was at that moment that his phone rang again. 

 

The anxiety he’d felt before was now fully replaced with anger. _ How dare they?  _ He thought.  _ How fucking  _ dare _ they disown Travis and then try to contact him again? How dare they treat a member of their own family so shamefully, only to try to worm their way back into his life? _

 

Sal went to pick up his phone, despite Travis’s protests. He glared down at the number. “This is her, huh?” he asked, reading the number out loud.

 

There were a few seconds of silence. “Repeat that?” 

 

Sal did as he was asked. 

 

“Oh. Oh, w _ ow. _ ” Travis was laughing now. Sal gaped at him, concerned. 

 

Travis ran the back of his wrist over his eyes and gave him a weak smile. “I got the three and the four mixed up; that number’s  _ similar _ to my grandma’s, but it isn’t hers. It...it’s not _ her,  _ after all…” 

 

Sal sighed in relief, giving his husband a reassuring smile. With that he answered the call. The voice on the other end of the line  _ did  _ sound like it belonged to an elderly woman, but much, much kinder than Travis’s old witch of a grandmother. She was perfectly understanding when Sal patiently told her that she had the wrong number.

 

He watched as Travis got back up, happily sinking into his embrace. “Crisis averted,” Sal said against his chest.

 

“No kidding.” Travis kissed Sal’s temple and gave him a squeeze. “I’m sor--”

 

“Don’t.” Sal nuzzled up against Travis’s neck. “You don’t have to be sorry for this.” Truth be told, this was useful information; now that Sal knew that the very  _ idea _ of being contacted by Travis’s family and seeing a number similar to one of theirs was enough to send his husband into a full-blown panic attack, they could keep a better eye out to avoid it.

 

Travis pulled away from him just enough so they could look each other in the eye. Sal smiled, happy that his husband seemed to be doing so much better. “What’d I do to deserve you, hmm?” he murmured, caressing Sal’s cheek.  **_/_ **

 

“Well,” Sal hummed, placing his hand over Travis’s, “I distinctly remember you punched me.”

 

Travis gave a weary sigh. “So do I.. sorry about that.” 

 

The older man kissed his husband on the jaw, where he distinctly remembered giving him the punch a good 10-15 years earlier.

 

Sal tilted his head, allowing Travis’s kiss to turn into kisses, feeling arms wrap tighter around him. 

 

“Hey, we were kids. It’s okay, I’ve dealt with worse.” A moment of silence, Sal gently putting both hands on the sides of Travis’s face. “ _ You’ve  _ dealt with worse.”

 

Travis leaned into one of Sals hands, giving him a small smile. “I guess we have, haven’t we?”

 

Sal started smiling. “And we’re still alive and kicking, huh?”

 

“We’re still alive and ready to kick everyone’s ass.” Travis nodded, checking the clock once more. 

 

He noted that it was still incredibly early, only 6 pm. Mass wasn’t going to be happening until at least 10 pm, so they still had a couple of hours to kick back and relax, maybe even watch a movie; something they hadn’t done in a while.

 

‘Something That hasn’t been done in a while’ turned out to be a game of Go Fish, which relaxed the both of them. This was the game they usually went to when one of them suffered an attack.

 

“Got any 6’s?” Sal cocked his head to the left, eyes peeking up from behind his cards.

 

Travis pretended to think for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “Yes.” 

 

Sal giggled, taking the card happily and putting the two cards to the side, glancing back up at him. 

 

“Got any 9s?” Travis peeked up, seeing Sal hold back laughter before picking out a card and handing it to Travis. “Now what’s so funny?” 

 

“Nothing.” Sal tried, and failed, to keep his giggling in.

 

Travis’s mind finally clicked, and he looked up. A mistletoe.  _ Of course.  _ Sal had been the one to decorate the small house, so he must have deliberately chosen to put the mistletoe under the spot they were in most often. 

 

“Well, aren’t  _ you _ a long-time planner?” Travis cocked an eyebrow.

 

Sally giggled again, squealing in surprise as Travis reached over and pulled Sal over to him, knocking the card game to the ground and effectively ending it./

 

-

Maybe they were a little late to Mass. If anyone else noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

 

They found an empty pew near the back of the church and chose to sit there. How often did  _ that _ happen, getting a whole pew to themselves?

 

Travis had once told Sal that he 100% believed that, when God closed a door, he opened a window. He’d been upset to leave the church community he’d been brought up in, even if it  _ had  _ been led by his horrible father and full of judgemental bigots--it was  _ home _ to him. He hadn’t known anything else. In moving, though, they’d found another congregation who was far more open and accepting.

 

Sal was still considered himself far less religious than Travis, but right now, he fully saw where he was coming from. The sound of the doors opening had drawn at least a few pairs of eyes out of instinct; a few of them stayed on the two of them when they found a place to sit, and those faces all smiled at them in recognition. 

 

They settled into a comfortable silence to listen to the sermon.  _ This _ priest was nothing like Travis’s father; one could tell just by looking at him that he’d taken Jesus’s word to heart and was doing his best to treat people with kindness. He looked upon the congregation with a tender, understanding smile as he spoke. 

 

“We do our best to worship Christ, not by repeating His word, but by following His example,” he was saying. “We do  _ not  _ love our fellow man by giving him mere words, but by  _ showing _ him. We take this time, above all else, to be understanding.”

 

Sal felt eyes on him and turned to his left. Travis was giving him a look he’d now seen several times before.

 

“We take this time, above all other times, to thank God for all of our blessings.”

 

Travis was giving him one of his heartfelt smiles. One of those ones that told Sal “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been; I never thought I’d get here, but I did, and it’s because of you.” Sal’s heart warmed as his husband placed a large, warm hand on one of his knees. 

 

“It’s our duty to try to place ourselves in each others’ shoes. God and His son watch us every day of our lives. They know us better than we know ourselves. They know what thoughts run through our minds, and they  _ understand _ . They love us, and that’s why Christ sacrificed himself for us. It’s our duty to do the same.” The preacher gave them all a cheeky smile. “Well, perhaps he doesn’t want us to  _ crucify  _ ourselves.”

 

It got a small round of chuckles from the audience. Sal smiled beneath his prosthetic and placed his left hand on top of Travis’s, giving it a squeeze. 

 

“Even so, this time of year can be difficult for many. So if you can find it in your hearts, see if you can’t go out of your way to show kindness to another person, even if it  _ is  _ only by a little. Show love to mankind; be as kind as you can be. There are those among us tonight who are not believers--” Sal might have looked down at his lap when the preacher said that “--and that’s fine. You don’t  _ need _ to believe; God prefers a kind Atheist over a cruel Christian, after all.” Sal did his best not to scoff at that; he could think of a few certain people who could have stood to hear  _ that _ when growing up. 

 

“Be kind; be understanding. If not for God, then for the people around you. If not for Jesus, then for yourself. We get what we give; it doesn’t matter what you believe or who you believe in, this is a simple truth of life. I know, for a fact, that everyone here tonight has plenty of love in their hearts to give.”

 

Sal looked away from the preacher and at Travis. A soft smile was on his soft dark lips and his eyes shone bright in the soft light of the church. He felt his heart ache; he knew the preacher was right. Sal had a lot of love to give, and so did Travis. 

 

Maybe he was nervous before; their lives were about to change a lot. Maybe he was  _ still _ nervous.

 

But the words had helped. Now, more than anything, Sal felt strong and determined. He’d never felt more sure of this than ever before.

 

He gave Travis’s hand another squeeze and shifted closer to him, now soothed by his husband’s warmth and the sure words of the preacher.

-

Christmas Night was spent in almost complete darkness. The only lights in the apartment came from the lights on their Christmas tree and the soft glow of their television. They’d playfully argued about what to watch before settling on a Christmas special marathon they’d found. Every single one was ridiculously cheesy and predictable; they had a blast, drinking cocoa and eggnog and making quips and jokes all while cuddled up together.

 

It was even better, waking up to Christmas morning while still in each others’ arms. 

 

They’d set up a tradition in the last few years they’d been together; quick, cheap breakfast of toaster waffles and microwavable bacon with a side of instant coffee. That particular tradition had been created their first Christmas together, before Sal had become the cook he now was and before the two of them started making enough money together to be comfortable.

 

_ It’s not a tradition that’ll be around for much longer _ , Sal couldn’t help but think. He managed to hide his nervous gulp by taking a particularly large bite of syrup-drenched waffle. 

 

It was at that moment that he heard a familiar noise. The heater had come back on.

 

“Hey, how about that?” said Travis with a grin. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

 

Sal managed to laugh. 

 

After breakfast came the time to open presents. They separated their meager piles according to name; Sal desperately hoped his husband couldn’t hear just how fast his heart started to beat.

 

Against how he’d hoped this would go, Travis reached for the plain, flat package first. Sal watched wide-eyed as he delicately plucked the silvery bow off of it before meticulously pulling the wrapping paper apart based on how Sal had taped it together. He’d once admitted that he’d always hated just ripping into presents after whoever had wrapped them had spent so much time and effort to do so prettily.

 

This particular method took a lot of time, but Sal still felt that it went much too quickly.

 

Conversely, he then felt like an eternity started to pass when Travis finally pulled the adoption papers from the manila envelope and began to read them. Another one passed as Sal watched his eyes widen, finally realizing what they were.

 

“Travis?” He could barely speak over a whisper. /

 

Travis didn’t glance up, his breathing getting a bit quicker. “I-Is this-?”

 

Sal bit his lip, fiddling with his hands. “It is. All you have to do is sign the line, and we can go get her.”

 

Travis’s head snapped up, his eyes wide and seeming to struggle not to clutch the adoption papers. “She’s still at the orphanage?”

 

“And her mom handed over all the rights.” Sal blinked back tears. “She said she was happy we were going to take her in…”

 

Immediately, he stood up, reaching over with one hand and wrapping Sal up into a hug, shoulders shaking. “w-We’re parents…”

 

Sal nodded, burying his face into his shoulder. “We’re parents.”

 

The time stretched on, the two holding each other close. The other, small presents were long forgotten. It was only when Sal’s phone alarm started blaring that they jumped, Sal digging out his  phone from his pocket to shut off the phone. Travis let out a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes. 

 

“We have to go g-get her, we have to go now-” Travis was already gone when Sal when to speak, shuffling on a purple jacket. 

 

“Wait up! Wait up!” Sal snatched his prosthetic, buckling it into place and throwing on his jacket. “I’m coming, hold on!”

 

Travis nearly slid on the ice as the two rushed to the car, Sal hopping into the driver’s seat so that his husband could fill out his half of the adoption forms on their way. Sal had to be extremely careful, Travis having to glance up every now and then to tell Sal if they were drifting too far to one side of the road. 

 

It took far too long for them to get to the outside of the orphanage. The building seemed run-down, but that was only on the outside. Dozens of children played, all bundled up in donated shirts, coats, boots, scarves and gloves. There weren’t any babies outside, but that was to be expected.

 

A couple of the children looked up at the arrival of Sal and Travis, running away and hiding. One of the caretakers that was outside glanced up, giving a smile as she recognized them.

 

“We were waiting for you! We thought maybe you’d come tomorrow.” She brushed a hair back up into her hat, a child clinging to her pants and looking up at Sal curiously. 

 

“Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without every member of the family.” Travis nodded, scratching the back of his neck. 

 

“Well, you know where to find her!” the caretaker returned her attention to the many children, preventing a potentially-dangerous snowfight from breaking out.

 

Sal linked his fingers together with Travis’s, leading the way. Travis clung to the papers, crinkling them as his stomach turned in excited cycles. They opened the door, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of the orphanage. 

 

They’d spent multiple days, if not months, sitting in the chairs in the first office, convincing the director that yes, they were credible parents. No, they weren’t going to murder the child, why would they do that? Yes, Sal was arrested for murder, but he was found innocent. Travis had had to explain why he’d had the scar over and over because the director thought he’d been in a gang. Both Sal and Travis could detect the racist undertones that were there.

 

But now.

 

It was all going to be worth it./

 

Sal was the one she was handed to first. He and Travis had taken classes, read up as much as they possibly could. 

 

But none of that could even  _ begin  _ to prepare Sal for the feeling of an actual, real-life baby being placed in the cradle of his arms. She was warm, almost impossibly so; despite her small size, there was a distinct weight to her. Her skin was a soft brown, just a tad bit darker than Travis’s; though she was clearly new to the world, there was already a thick layer of dark fuzz growing on her scalp. He recognized the smell that came from her; it was the same one he’d experienced when Maple had allowed him to hold Soda for the first time.  _ New baby smell... _

 

This was a tiny human being that Sal was holding. _This was his daughter._ The reality of the whole situation made his eyes fill with tears.

 

“Hey, You,” he murmured. Any louder, and he just  _ knew _ he was going to ruin the frailty of what had just started. “I’m your dad.” 

 

At the sound of Sal’s voice, her large brown eyes opened. 

 

Sal understood now. He’d had infatuations before, silly hormonal feelings at the sight of a pretty girl or cute boy when he was a teenager; he’d fallen in love before, was in love  _ now, _ but it had taken time to get there.

 

But  _ this?This _ was what real, true love at first sight felt like.

 

Clearly upset by the fact that her sleep had been interrupted, the skin across the baby’s perfect little nose began to wrinkle. Just as Sal began to gently shush her and lightly bounce her up and down, Travis’s hand reached into the folds of the blankets to gently stroke her hair. The tender, warm contact brought a stop to her whimpers and made her close her eyes again.

 

“Yeah…” Sal chanced a look at Travis, who looked even more choked up than he felt. “He’s your dad; I’m your pop.” Travis’s other hand had made its way to the small of Sal’s back, and Sal’s heart grew so warm it felt like it would burst. Already his husband was subconsciously protecting his family.

 

_ My family... _ Sal thought, and the tears finally fell as he pressed the lips of his prosthetic to the baby’s forehead. 

-

Sal rode in the backseat on their way back home. He claimed that it was because he wasn’t sure if he’d installed the car seat right, but Travis suspected that he just didn’t want to leave their daughter’s side.

 

He completely understood; he kept glancing back at the two of them, feeling his insides turn to goo as he watched his husband entertain little Tiffany Phelps. 

 

It was his turn to hold her when they got out of the car. “Come on; quit hogging her!” He’d only partially been teasing. 

 

Before Travis got a chance to freak out properly, Sal gave him a brief tour of the apartment. Apparently he’d been subtly baby-proofing everything without Travis noticing.

 

“Jesus,” Travis said as he rocked Tiffany back to sleep. “How’d I not notice any of this?”/

 

“Because you were so busy looking up how to cook a proper baby bottle, and how to stitch up a rip, and so many other things. Besides, I’m incredibly sneaky.” Sal gave his husband a wink, keeping one of his hands on Tiffany’s back and rubbing in slow, deep circles. 

 

Travis glanced around slowly, his movements equally as slow, much more deliberate than before. Their presents were still under the fake tree, in their little boxes and piles, but they were forgone in favor of sitting on the couch.

 

Tiffany, ever so sweet as she was, hardly moved. Both parents settled down, unable to take their eyes off of her as she went back to her deep sleep. 

 

“She’s so peaceful.” Sal murmured, reaching up to take off his prosthetic. 

 

Travis gave a weak smile, Sal noting the tears in his eyes. “Isn’t she?”

 

Sal’s lips quirked into a smile, holding back a laugh. “You know it’s okay to cry, hun.”

 

“I’m not gonna cry.” Travis pulled his lips into a tight line. “I’ve just got dust in my eyes…”

 

Sal gave in, giggling quietly as he laid against Travis, face near to Tiffany’s. She moved her little fist up, grasping Travis’s shirt before shrinking back into her little blanket, giving a soft sneeze. 

Sal could pinpoint the exact moment when he saw Travis’s heart melt, feeling his own miss a beat. 

 

Sal smiled, moving slightly to kiss first Tiffany’s forehead, then kissing Travis. He hummed lightly as he pulled away, Travis looking into Sal’s eyes, which were filled with love and joy. Sal looked into Travis’s eyes, noting their thin sheen of tears. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Travis.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Sal.”

**Author's Note:**

> SpaceKase here! I hope you all had a great holiday!


End file.
